


"Three Days" (SGA, Shep/Dex, R)

by write_light



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Let's Get Gay Married Commentfic Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/908792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teaser:<br/>Ronon picked up one of the strips of leather and stretched it tight between his hands.<br/>"Kneel."<br/>"What?" John gasped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Three Days" (SGA, Shep/Dex, R)

**Author's Note:**

> A commentfic that got a bit out of hand, written for the multifandom [Let's Get Gay Married meme](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html) hosted by [](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/)**bree_black** in honor of legalized same-sex marriage in New York.
> 
> Originally written [HERE](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html?thread=1422267#t1422267) for my own prompt: __  
> John proposes out of the blue; he's been planning it for ages and just...forgot to talk to the man he loves. Ronon: zero surprise but some surprising conditions before he accepts.

 

* * *

"That is foolish. 'Old and new, borrowed and blue.' Blue makes no sense."

"We can skip that. _Heartless Satedan bastard. Why am I marrying you?_ " John said under his breath.

"Because you asked me and I said yes."

"Oh, right. I didn't expect all these … conditions."

"They are the traditions of my people. If you wish to marry a Satedan, you will respect our ways."

"I'm not becoming your wife."

"You are becoming my mate. It is of higher standing than your 'wife'."

John sighed. The last day hadn't been easy and he was, to be honest, growing more and more nervous the longer Ronon refused to explain the intricacies of the customs. They sounded… painful. John flexed his shoulders, more of a shudder than a shrug, but it didn't relax him.

Ronon was taking this with utter sincerity and the passion with which he approached fighting the Wraith. Rodney wasn't speaking to him any longer, but that would blow over soon enough. Lorne had asked for a transfer the day after, but John doubted it was out of anything as ludicrous as heartbreak, despite Ronon calmly telling him that Lorne was "devastated" and "had his eye on you for months."

***

There were three steps to the wedding, and each had its own day. Day One was " _Helxen_ ", which Ronon drew on the paper as a thin spire. John assumed it was some sort of chapel. Day Two was called " _Laika_ ", and the thing Ronon drew, with great care in long slow strokes, looked like a rasta sea urchin.

"This one may be painful," Ronon said, concentrating on the accuracy of the drawing.

John looked at him with practiced calm. His hand clenched his knee under the table, and he said only "Mmmhmm."

Ronon stopped drawing and looked up suddenly, concerned. He studied John's face carefully, side to side, which only made John more nervous.

"What?"

"It will be complicated. Perhaps more painful than I thought."

" _What_ will?" John demanded.

"Day by day, we tell the tale."

"You keep _saying that_. What exactly is going to happen? On Earth, we make wedding plans. Months ahead sometimes."

"It is simple. Trust, John."

He put his hand out toward John's face, and John expected a gentle touch, or a playful push. Ronon grabbed his chin and tipped his head down and forward suddenly.

"Hmmmm," he growled. "Your hair."

He left it at that and took a third sheet of paper to begin the final drawing. John was astonished at the artistic skill his future husband revealed – he could recognize himself, and next to him, Ronon, even in the quick sketch. Above Ronon was a third figure.

"My wife," he said, and was silent again.

He stopped and thought for a while, eyes closed. He sketched another woman's face, above John's, smaller, the perfect likeness of Nancy.

"Yours?" Ronon asked.

"You met her for all of five minutes."

" _Armen kolo_ ," replied Ronon, "the third dawn, the third dusk".

"Doesn't it take a lot of time from fighting and … stuff like that, if you have three-day weddings?"

"We don't have many. They last."

"Yeah, well, mine-"

"It will last," Ronon cut him off as his stood to go. "Learn the words."

"But what do they mean?"

" _Helxen_ – Writing; _Laika_ – Binding; _Armen kolo_ – Dawn and Dusk."

He left John alone to ponder the next three days of his life.

 

* * *

**Helxen**

Day One began late, as was custom on Sateda. Ronon trained with Teyla for a few hours, while John fidgeted with his clothes in his quarters. Rodney helped, mainly by sitting still and not trying to help John dress.

"You're quiet."

"I'm thinking," Rodney said.

"I'm worrying," John replied, adjusting his tuxedo.

"About why they sent that tux through if they don't legally recognize the marriage itself. Do you think Earth will make rules about human-Satedan marriage just because of you two?"

"Rodney-"

"I mean, I thought I'd get a major theorem named after me by now, at least. You might get the Supreme Court case."

"Rodney, you were quiet."

"Sorry. Calm. Relaxed. _Helxen_ means writing, that's all I can find in the database."

Ronon pounded on the door at 11:30.

"Crap, is it time already? Do I look all right?"

"Yeah, you look great," said Rodney, staring at his laptop the whole time.

"Come on, John. Day One is starting," said Ronon, taking his hand.

Several minutes later Rodney realized what _Helxen_ meant and also that he was supposed to be present as a witness and was late. He sprinted in the door, flushed from the run, from the news he didn't need to deliver any more, and the physicality of the scene in front of him. He entered just as Ronon pulled John's tuxedo shirt off and tossed it next to the jacket.

"Now unclothe me," Ronon said softly.

John pulled off the cloak Teyla had made for Ronon as a wedding gift.

"Toss it. It means nothing."

"Don't insult Teyla's-"

" _Toss it_ ," Ronon said even deeper, and John did, right next to his shirt.

Ronon took a long stick from the incense holder and John stood there expecting him to light it in the flame.

" _Helxen_ ," said Ronon, and a longer phrase John didn't fully understand. "I write my name on you."

He took John's neck and stabbed the incense in, which helped John realize it was a very sharp needle. The pain was far less than he'd anticipated, but it was still pain.  
Ronon jabbed him again and again repeatedly, dipping the needle in the ink a few times. Rodney grew especially pale when a tiny drop of blood weeping from the fresh tattoo slid down John's chest.

"How am I supposed to do this to you?"

"Don't talk. You will blur the writing."

John's eyebrows did their best to repeat the question.

"I will teach you."

***

Some time toward evening, John finished his first tattoo, a simple design that incorporated a circle, for the gate, and his name in what he felt was an embarrassingly childlike script. Teyla, Carson and the others had left at the end of the ceremony to check on Rodney in the infirmary.

He expected Ronon to hate it. He didn't expect Ronon to start crying.

"I'm sorry. I never did this before."

"You have written your name on me, John Sheppard. That is a good thing. We will meet tomorrow. There can be no further contact tonight."

"But what's _Laika_? What exactly are we binding?"

"Tomorrow is another day," Ronon said, and left, after wiping his eyes clear of tears.

John watched him go and was alone.

"Is that a Satedan thing? Because it's a cheap cliché on Earth!" he yelled at the door.

His neck throbbed.

* * *

**Laika**

"Day Two is about binding, but there's nothing in the database."

"Rodney. Enjoy the discovery. Learn with John, and you can share the ceremony more deeply," Teyla admonished him, tilting her head.

Ronon entered first, wearing Teyla's cloak, tied at the waist but open at the neck to reveal his new tattoo. John came in a moment later, checking his watch. He was wearing his tuxedo in a similar fashion.

"You were supposed to help him, Rodney," Carson whispered.

"It was all we could do that didn't cover the tattoo. Good thing he didn't get it on his-"

" _Laika_ " said Ronon loudly. "You bind yourself to your soul. You bind yourself to our marriage. You bind yourself to my soul."

John gulped. He looked at the thin leather strips laid on the makeshift Satedan altar, and broke out into a sweat, adding to the stains on his shirt.

"Won't get the rental back on this," he laughed nervously.

Ronon picked up one of the strips of leather and stretched it tight between his hands.

"Kneel."

"What?" John gasped.

" _Kneel_ ," Ronon whispered. "You are too tall, even for me."

John got down on his knees slowly, eyes on Ronon's face the entire time, and on the long leather strip in his hands. When he'd knelt, Ronon began _Laika_.

"I knew this would be difficult," he said a half hour later, "but your hair is not … it is not like our hair. It is worse."

"I’m sorry?" John said, trying not to take it personally. "I didn't think my hair would ruin my wedding day."

"Days," Ronon corrected gently. "I will alter the _Laika_. For you."

"Thanks."

John's head ached by the end of the first round, a tight clump of his scalp complaining mightily that it had been stretched, tugged, and nearly pulled out by Ronon's hands.

"It's very beautiful," Teyla said.

"Your first dreadlock," Rodney observed, trying to suppress a laugh that had been building for some time.

John felt it gingerly, but it hurt worse than the tattoo, and now that he thought of _that_ , it began itching.

"What do I do for you? You're… pretty well bound up."

"I have undone one and frayed the ends for you. It is not custom, but it will work."

John wrapped and wrapped and pulled and tugged and twisted and tied and finally appreciated the free hair braiding he'd scorned when he was last at the beach.

He was never so happy as he was when he learned that the third strip was merely wrapped around their joined hands while they recited their vows.

"No contact, again," Ronon said, and John could hear the sex building up inside him. It was a common occurrence on away missions or on board other ships, and it always led to a painfully wild night of sex unlike any he'd ever had, but this time, it was going on 50 hours since they'd last fucked.

"What is _Armen kolo_?" he asked, and again the door had no answers. He didn't sleep well that night, dreaming of Ronon with a woman he'd never seen. His own ex-wife didn't trouble his dreams, and for that he was grateful.

* * *

**Armen kolo**

The third day began early, unlike the previous two. Ronon was awake, electrically so, and John was not.

"I had dreams," he said indirectly to Rodney.

"Your neck is not infected, your hair has obeyed its new master, and yet you still look like Hell."

"Thanks."

"What are best men for?"

"Not for laughing at my hair."

"I haven’t said a thing. About your … your mini-locks." Rodney snickered uncontrollably and felt bad.

"I can get Zelenka."

"He's no best man. He doesn't know you like I do."

***

John got there first this time, perhaps because the viewing deck was closer than the chapel, but Ronon was punctual as always. His eyes were fiery, and this sent John's stomach into a spiral for the third day running.

"Today we face the sunrise," he said, sounding drunk or mad with power. John's mind failed to find an appropriate match.

The planet obliged their ceremony about two minutes later, and they stood hand in hand as the sun rose blindingly over the ocean. Ronon hardly blinked. John wished he'd slept more, but there was a power in the man next to him, and it surged through his warm hand, which never let go of John's.

"Is that all?" John asked after ten minutes of sunlight.

"For now. We must return to see the sun leave. Between now and then, we take care of _Armen kolo_."

"I thought we just did."

" _Armen kolo_ is the Passing. All things that have passed before must be removed."

John stared blankly, and just a little irritated by the headache that was starting up again.

"Can we go inside?"

"We must. We spend the day together putting aside what has passed."

"Meaning?"

Ronon didn't answer, but the chapel was empty of all their friends, so they sat.

"Meaning?" John asked again, more insistently.

"Meaning that my past mate is no longer, but yours still lives. It will be my duty to hunt her down and kill her."

John's eyes widened, but Ronon's face was particularly unnerving today, and he believed Nancy was in danger.

"You- "

"Is she still on Earth?"

"What?! You can't kill Nancy! You met her. You were… distant but civil to her." Each sentence was slightly higher and more panicked. "You – look, Satedan customs or no-"

"You would besmirch my people's customs?"

"I would!"

"We could use the modern version, where we just tear up the pictures I drew of them," Ronon said, his voice deeply disappointed, "like my people have done for the past thousand years or so. What kind of lies does your database tell about us?" He was angrier now, but it was anger with a smirk, and John finally got his brain up to full speed.

"You're making a joke."

Ronon chuckled his deep, rolling laugh.

"You don’t joke."

"You don't know me well. Perhaps we _should_ delay this ceremony."

"No, no. I – we can tear up the pictures. I'm good with that."

Ronon held out the image of his wife for John to take, and watched as John ripped the paper in half. He took Nancy's image and tore it in four pieces and John felt his past fall off his shoulders, his future now in the powerful hands of a fighter he trusted with this life, a man he'd fallen for over months of battles, and months of body-bruising lovemaking.

"What do we do until sundown?" John asked. "And why do you have that look in your eyes?"

"It's been three days," he whispered, his tongue already wrapping around John's ear, hands grasping for what he needed.

"We don’t have sex before the-"

"Shut up, John Sheppard. _We do_."

 


End file.
